


i can't take just a fictional you

by nirav



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fake Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirav/pseuds/nirav
Summary: tumblr prompt: fake marriage au





	1. Chapter 1

“Explain this to me again.”

“Right!”  Winn spins around in his chair and fires finger guns at her, grinning too wide and too bright.  “So, there’s this super cool–”

“Super _evil,”_ Kara chimes in.

“Right!” Winn says againn.  “Totally evil, super cool, ridiculously hot bad guy who goes by Roulette.”

“I got that part,” Sam says dryly, arms still folded over her chest and eyebrow still reaching upwards.  She glances over towards Alex, who’s carefully not looking at anyone and is wholly focused on the tablet in her hands.  

“And she’s having a poker event,” Winn goes on.”

“A themed poker event,” Kara says.

“A themed poker event where the theme is _it’s women’s history month and men are garbage,”_ Winn carries on.  “We need to make our way in, but Lena is already on the docket as having no date–”

“Which is offensive,” Lena says with a sniff over the video chat.  

“–and Kara has to be on the perimeter in case she does anything shady like imprison a bunch of humans to be slaves on alien planets–”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Sam says sharply.  “I have a daughter, you know, I can't wind up on another _planet_.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Alex rushes out, a hand shooting out to settle on her wrist.  “Promise.

“–and Alex is the only one with the clearance to infiltrate, since she’s gone undercover at a Roulette event before, so she needs a date–”

“Partner!” Alex hisses, free fist slamming into his shoulder hard enough for him to squeal.

“Partner,” he amends quickly.  “And we know and trust you, you have nifty invulnerability, and–”

“I’ll do it,” Sam says.  Her hand covers Alex’s, still on her wrist, and her eyes lock onto Alex’s.  “Just let me know what you need from me.”

In the background, Winn and Kara trade high fives when Alex flushes almost the color of Kara’s cape.  

 

* * *

 

“Here we go,” Sam says, pulling in a deep breath.  She fiddles nervously with her fake wedding ring, presses a hand to her ear without meaning to, feeling for the earbud, and Alex wraps a hand around hers and pulls it away from her ear.

“Don’t poke at them,” she says softly.  “It’s conspicuous.”

“Right,” Sam mumbles.  “I knew that.”  She takes another deep breath, shakes her arms out, and offers a crooked elbow to Alex.  “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Alex says with a small smile.  She hooks her hand through Sam’s elbow and follows her down the block to the entrance.  “You look good, by the way.  Great, even.”

Sam clears her throat self consciously, free hand tugging gingerly at the lapel, straightening the drape of her jacket, the sharp edges of her tie.  “Thank you,” she says, words coming out heavy.  “You look amazing in that dress.”

She does, the dark green a warm compliment to her eyes, and Sam pushes her chin higher as they stride past the doorman into a too-bright club and immediately looks for alcohol.  She can handle this, so long as this continues to be just Alex in that dress, Alex’s hand on her arm, the intimidatingly hot woman in the red dress prowling around the edges of the crowd and stalking towards them with her gaze set firmly on the long expanses of skin that Alex’s dress leaves open–

Oh, no.  That can’t be good, that flare of heat building behind her sternum, growing as the woman makes her way indirectly towards them.

“You okay?” Alex says softly, one hand careful at her elbow and the other offering her a drink.

“Yep,” Sam says too quickly.  She swallows half of the scotch in one go.  “All good.”

“You seem tense.”  Alex’s hand tightens around her elbow, pulling against her momentum and swinging her carefully around until they’re face to face, Alex’s heels giving her enough height to almost meet Sam’s eyes without looking up.  “We don’t have to do this.”

“I’m okay.”  Sam forces her shoulders to relax and her mouth to go soft, shoulders curving towards Alex automatically and mouth dipping towards her ear.  “I promise.”  The woman in the red dress closes in on them and her hand skims along Alex’s lower back, cutting off any reply from Alex and pushing her spine ramrod straight.

“And who might you be?”

“Alex.”  She holds out her free hand with an insincere smile, the other curving around Sam’s waist and pulling her close.  “This is my wife, Sam.”

“A pleasure, the both of you,” Roulette says, shaking first Sam’s hand, and then Alex’s.  Her hand lingers around Alex’s, eyes holding on the sharp lines of Alex’s collarbones and the neckline of her dress, and Sam swallows the swell of anger in her chest, pushes away the edges of the Kryptonian strength in her muscles aching for the opportunity to punch Roulette through the floorboards.  “I trust you’re having a good time.”

“The best,” Alex says warmly.  Her thumb moves obviously over the material of Sam’s shirt, tracing up towards her ribcage and down towards her hipbone.  “We don’t often get out together these days– work, you know– so it’s wonderful to get to be out and about on a date night.”

“What do you both do?”  Roulette captures two flutes of champagne off the tray, offering one to Alex and keeping one for herself.  Alex smoothly hands hers off to Sam and claims the second for herself, leaving Roulette with empty hands.

“Oh, you know,” Sam says with a nod and a sip of her newly claimed champagne.  “I work in finance, Alex works in technology.  Hardly any time for ourselves.”

“It’s lovely that you find the time,” Roulette says, disdain not remotely hidden.  “Please excuse me, a friend of mine has just arrived.”  She shoots an uninhibited glare towards Sam before spinning on one stiletto and heading off.  She pauses to look over her shoulder, and Alex pushes up onto her toes to whisper into Sam’s ear.

“Keep it up,” she says softly.  “The more distracted she is by us, the more likely that Kara can catch her off guard.”

“In that case.”  Sam leans closer, fingers fanning out over Alex’s lower back and pulling her closer to press a kiss to her cheek and glance past her to where Roulette is welcoming another guest, disgruntled but charming.  “Should we dance?”  She pulls back enough to hand her champagne glass to a waiter and holds her freed hands out to Alex, one eyebrow up.  

Alex flushes and clears her throat, stumbling momentarily before discarding her own glass and following Sam out onto the dance floor.

“You’re a natural, you know,” she says, arms curling around Sam’s neck as she presses closer.  

Sam swallows against the dryness in her throat and narrows her focus to keeping her arms respectably loose around Alex’s waist, holding her pulse to a reasonable level to match the familiar calm rhythm of Alex’s heartbeat.

“What can I say,” she says after a moment.  “Some things come easy.”  She raises an eyebrow and spins them around another couple and dips Alex for a moment, the still-alien strength in her muscles minimizing any offer she might have once had to put into it.  

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Alex says, pressing close enough out of the dip that Sam can feel the seams of her dress pressing through her jacket, her shirt, her pants.  “Of course being charming and suave would come easy to you, miss I-run-the-largest-company-in-the-world.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Sam forces a light air to her words and guides them around another couple, further away from Roulette and closer to a neglected corner of the dancefloor.  “So, what’s the plan?”

“More of the same,” Alex says softly.  Her fingers press softly against the back of Sam’s neck, and a shudder roars down Sam’s spine.  “Recon.  We let Kara know when and where Roulette leaves so she can intercept.”

“In that case,” Sam says.  She lets Alex out into a twirl and then pulls her back in.  “What are the federal government’s rules about drinking on the job?  Because there is some _really_ nice scotch at that bar.”

“The rules are strict, Miss Arias.”  Director J’onzz’s voice crackles through the earpieces, sudden and sharp enough to make Sam jump.  Alex rolls her eyes and winks, fingers sliding through Sam’s and tugging her towards the bar.  She points at the bottle and holds up two fingers with her free hand, her other still occupied with holding tight to Sam’s.

“Relax,” Alex says quietly as the drinks are offered to them.  “You don’t have any responsibility here.  You’re just here to get me into the party, so have a drink and enjoy yourself.”

“Right,” Sam mumbles.  She throws back the scotch like a shot of cheaper whiskey, glaring at the bartender’s offended wince, and motions for another one.  “In that case, can I just have the bottle?”

Alex laughs softly and curls into her side, an arm around her waist and body pressed to Sam’s from ribs to knees, and pours them both another drink.  Sam throws it back as well, focusing on the burn in her chest instead of the warmth of Alex at her side or the fact that she’s just there as a decoy.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Sam says, slow and thick, pushing through the edges of intoxication.  “How’d we do?”

“Awesome,” Alex mumbles.  The building is emptied out of all the guest, save for Roulette in handcuffs in another room, looking highly offended at Kara and J’onn question her, and the collection of DEO agents milling around.  Sam and Alex have been relegated to the main room, out of her sight, in case their cover needs to be reused, and it’s left them alone with the full bar.  “We’re a totally badass team.  You would make a _great_ secret agent.”  

She pours them both another drink, pouting when the last of the absurdly expensive bottle of Balvenie drips into her glass.  Sam rolls her eyes and trades her fuller glass for Alex’s.

“To fake dates,” she says with only a moderate slur.  

“Fake dates,” Alex echoes, glass clinking against hers and whiskey sloshing about precariously.  “You’re the best fake date I’ve ever had.”

“That can’t really be that high a bar.”

“Still,” Alex says, breathy and indignant.  “You were the _best._  Cool and charming and a great dance and _super_ hot–”

“Super hot?” Sam blinks dumbly at her, scotch halfway to her mouth and mouth hanging open.

“Um,” Alex mumbles.  

“You think I’m hot?”

“I mean.”  Alex flaps her hands around for a long moment, then sighs and slumps further down onto her barstool.  “You’re totally hot and I can’t even act like you aren’t.  Especially in the suit.”

Sam tugs at her tie, fingers missing the edges of her loose tie momentarily and fumbling to find them.  “I mean,” she says after a long moment.  “You’re like–so beautiful, you know?  And super cool, and a total badass.  So I mean, I don’t know what you’re–”

“You guys!” Kara yells from the other room.  It bellow through the empty air between them and crackles into their earpieces, and Sam giggles into her hand, too loud and too drunk.  “I can hear you!”“

“Sorry!” Alex whisper-shouts in the general direction of the other room. She yanks her earpiece out and nearly falls off her stool leaning forward to retrieve Sam’s, one hand falling onto her leg for balance.  She flings both of the earpieces over the bar and sticks her tongue out towards Kara, hand still on Sam’s leg and shoulders still tilted towards her.

“We should go to your place,” Sam murmurs, fingertips tracing up from Alex’s wrist to her elbow and back again.

“Yeah,” Alex breathes out.  “We really should.”  She latches onto Sam’s wrist and pulls her off the barstool towards the door, hesitating only when Kara yells out “ _I can still hear you, you know!”._

It would be enough, normally, to make Sam blush, but instead she just winks brazenly and lets Alex drag her out of the building and into a taxi.  They make it to Alex’s apartment in record time, probably because Sam’s hauled Alex into her lap and probably because of Alex’s mouth on Sam’s neck and almost definitely about Sam’s hands reaching for the hem of Alex’s dress, but just barely quickly enough to avoid them moving too far past the point of irrevocably embarrassing themselves.  Barely.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam fumbles with her tie, tired fingers that still smell like Alex too uncoordinated to replicate the Windsor knot from earlier.  She grumbles and gives up, leaving it hanging untied around her neck and setting off in search of her jacket.

“It’s late,” Alex says from the bed, already in a t-shirt and sweatpants.  “You can sleep here, you know.”

“I only paid the sitter until midnight,” Sam says as she pulls her jacket on.  It’s grey this time, a lighter contrast to the black she’d worn the last time, and the paler pinstripe shows too many of the wrinkles pressed into the material after the last three hours it’s spent on Alex’s floor.  She turns in a circle, squinting in the dim light for her shoes, and Alex points towards the far end of the couch and the tip of one heel on the floor, peeking out around the corner of the couch.

“Right,” Alex says through a yawn, arms folded over her chest.  “Thank you again for-- uhm--”

Sam raises an eyebrow from where she’s leaning against the couch to put her shoes on. Alex flushes darkly, one hand coming up to cover the mark blooming over one collarbone and clearing her throat, and Sam focuses on pulling her shoe on instead of the familiar lines of muscle that shift in Alex’s shoulders as she moves.

“For going on another op with me,” Alex clarifies.  “I know it’s not what you signed up for, but thank you anyways.”

“Well, you know, I do kinda owe all of you,” Sam says with a shrug.  “There was that whole Reign thing, you might remember.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Alex says sharply.  “Come on, you know that.”

“You can say it all you want, but I still do,” Sam says, quiet and resigned, and she smiles and stands from the couch.  “I want to help if I can, and this was something I could do to help.”  She slides her hands into her pockets and shrugs once more.  “The fact that we got completely blasted and then had sex is just--well--”

“Just whiskey?” Alex offers.

“Yeah,” Sam says, smile flickering for a moment.  “Just whiskey.”  She pastes a wider smile onto her face and strides to the door, pausing to offer an easy goodbye over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

She leans against the wall next to Alex’s door, head dropping back and eyes sliding shut, and takes a deep breath.  The sound of Alex’s heartbeat reaches through the wall to her ears, and Sam listens in spite of herself as Alex walks towards the door, hand holding on the doorknob.  Air holds in Sam’s chest, because Alex might be following her, because this-- this second time they’ve fallen into bed with each other, the growing familiarity in the way Sam’s hands move with Alex’s body, the way Alex touches her like there are no mysteries left between them-- might have felt the same for Alex as it had for her, because she might want--

The lock clicks shut on the other side, and Sam lets the air out of her lungs slowly.  Of course Alex wasn’t going to follow her.  

She sets off down the hall, dragging her phone out of her pocket with one tired hand and calling an Uber to take her home.

 

* * *

“Miss Arias, there’s a Winn Schott on the line for you?”

Sam lets out a groan and drops her chin into her hands, glaring at the six missed calls and fourteen texts on her phone.  

“Miss Arias?”

“Go ahead, Jess,” Sam says with a sigh.  

“How’s my favorite finance genius today?”

“I’m not doing it,” Sam says shortly into the speakerphone.

“Come on, I didn’t even--”

“You’re about to tell me you need me to go undercover with Alex again,” Sam says, wrinkling her nose at the phone.  “Because you guys  _ really _ can’t keep ahold of Veronica Sinclair.”

“To be fair, she has, like, nine million friends in law enforcement,” Winn says defensively.  “Come on, this will be the last time.  I promise.”

“You said that the last four times,” Sam says,even as her traitorous hands open her calendar on her computer, betraying her brain’s reminder that, of the five times she’s gone undercover with Alex to try and trap Veronica Sinclair, she’s wound up having phenomenal drunk sex with Alex all five times. 

“It’s not my fault you two are so good at this that even Sinclair remembers you,” Winn says.  “So what do you say?  One more time for your favorite government agent?”

“Who says I have a favorite?” Sam says with a sigh.  “When is it?”

Winn lets out a victorious yell, enough that a startled yelp from Jess sounds through the door to Sam’s office.  “Right on, lady!  Friday at eight, be at the DEO at--”

“Quarter to seven for the briefing, dress rich and gay, I know the drill,” Sam says tiredly.

“You’re the best,” Winn says, bright and cheerful.  “See you then, rockstar.”

Sam groans again and drops her head into her hands.  

“Miss Arias?”  Jess peers into the office, chair pushed

“Clear my Friday afternoon and evening, please,” Sam says, mostly into her hands.  “I have a personal matter to deal with.”

 

* * *

Alex slides into the car with Sam with a muted “ _ Hey. _ ”  The backseat of the towncar is wide enough for them to keep plenty of space between them, but Sam’s fingers twitch towards Alex’s bare shoulders against her will anyways.  She’s wearing uncharacteristically conspicuous earrings, dangling down towards her shoulders.  Sam had gone with Kara to pick them out for Alex’s birthday last year, finding them buried and tarnished in a pawn shop and helping her clean them until they looked brand new and were ready to gift to Alex.   

“So,” Sam says after a moment.  She carefully doesn’t look over towards Alex, who she hasn’t been alone with since the prior week and the last time they slept together, because looking at Alex in earrings Sam picked out for her and a dress that dips low past her collarbones and stops well above the knee pulls her mind towards the way Alex’s hips move under her tongue, the way her spine arches against Sam’s hands, and none of that is particularly appropriate for a supposed charity auction for senior care initiatives in National City.  “What’s the plan this time?”

“I’m sorry you have to do this again,” Alex says quietly.  She pulls two earbuds and matching wedding bands out of her purse, not handing either to Sam yet.  “I know it’s--”

“It’s okay,” Sam hurries out.  She unlocks her phone to use as a mirror to check her lipstick, pausing briefly to smile at Alex.  She  _ does _ want to be around Alex, as difficult as it is to keep her hands and lips to herself when she is.  Alex doesn’t need to know that. “Really.  Ruby’s had an English exam and is at a slumber party for her study group.”

“Right,” Alex says, soft and uncertain.  “I remember.”  Of course she does.  Alex knows Ruby’s test schedule better than Sam does, even, her encyclopedic brain filing dates and subjects away perfectly.  Sam holds a hand out after a long moment, waiting until the earbud and ring drop into her palm to yank it back and shove the bud into her ear.  J’onn’s voice crackles into her ear, an easy anchor point, and she closes her eyes, counts to three on the inhale, and breathes out.  

“Here we go.” Sam fits the ring over her finger as the car rolls to a stop, twisting it one full clockwise turn habitually.  She slides towards the door, only to stop short of colliding with Alex, who hasn’t opened the door yet.  

“Your-- one sec,” Alex mumbles.  Her fingers tug deftly on the knot on Sam’s tie, straightening it carefully, then the edges of her collar, the lapel of her jacket.  “Now you’re perfect.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sam says before she can stop herself.  It draws a blush for Alex, as compliments always do, and the barely-there flush to her cheeks uncoils a bit of the knotted frustration in Sam’s stomach.  She clears her throat, too loud and too aware, and hurries back over to her side of the car.  “I’ll get your door, just a sec.”

She’s out of the car before Alex can protest, buttoning her jacket and striding around the car to open Alex’s door with square shoulders and a perfectly proffered hand.  Alex ducks her head down, playing her part as she always does, and slides her hand up from Sam’s hand to curl around her elbow.  The weight of her hand is warm and comfortable, and Sam keeps her head up and strides long as they make their way into the building.

 

* * *

“So good to see you both again,” Roulette says, kissing first Alex’s cheek, and then Sam’s.  Sam pastes a smile onto her face, leaning closer to Alex.  

“It was so nice to get another invitation,” Alex says.  She flags down a waiter and claims a glass of champagne for Sam, then one for herself.  “And we’re so excited for the auction.  I’ve heard the pieces you have up are amazing.”

A low hum fills Sam’s ears as Alex turns up the charm at Roulette, throwing compliments and winsome glances her way.  Sam’s body follows the habit of the last five times they’ve done this, playing the part of vaguely disinterested spouse, smiling tightly in the right places and possessively in other, all the while pretending like the warm weight of Alex’s hand on her hip isn’t something she wants more of.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks as Roulette saunters off.  “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry,” Sam says quietly.  “Long day.”

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” Alex says, one hand still on Sam’s hip and the other coming up to grip carefully at her arm.  “We really should be able to make the charges stick this time.”

“It’s okay,” Sam rushes out, because it  _ is _ .  She can’t hold herself in check around Alex most of the time, her fingers always seeking out the familiar lines of muscle that make up Alex’s body, but this-- subterfuge, espionage, the fabricated version of herself that’s a multimillionaire money manager with a biochemist wife-- is easy to fall into, the falsification of their relationship a crutch she can always count on because when Alex responds to her hands, her words, her tongue, it’s all just an act.

It’s easier, somehow, to play someone in love with Alex than it is to be lost somewhere in the middle of falling for her.

 

* * *

It’s different, this time.  

They aren’t even able to come close to any form of catching Sinclair for anything and leave the event disappointed and empty handed.  The driver takes them by Sam’s house first instead of Alex’s apartment, and Sam-- half-drunk, overdressed, worn down by the constant exposure to Alex and her warm eyes and strong hands and the inviting angles of her collarbones in that dress-- drags Alex out by the hand and through the front door before either of them can think about it.  The house is dark and quiet, Ruby gone for the night, and Sam has Alex against the front door as soon as it closes, lips on hers and hips pressing forward insistently.

“Fuck,” Alex groans out when Sam bites down at her neck, the back of her head hitting the door with a loud thud.  “Fuck, Sam, wait, we should-- should we talk about--”

“Talk about what?” Sam mumbles, hands pressing into the door on either side of Alex’s head and breath coming heavy, holding herself back as best she can because she  _ wants _ this, wants Alex, wants another night with her and another and another and every night with her, but she’ll take just this, drunk against her front door, if it’s all she can get.  

Alex stares back at her, eyes wide and dark, one hand wrapped in Sam’s tie and the other gripping painfully tight at Sam’s hip, her entire body moving with every heavy breath, but she just shakes her hand and pulls, pulls, pulls on the tie and Sam’s body until she can kiss her again.  One leg hikes up around Sam’s hip and Sam yanks the other up to match, leveraging the alien strength that’s the only good thing she got from Reign to carry Alex up the stairs to her bedroom.

Ruby’s slumber party is going to roll into going straight to her soccer game at noon.  Alex is off duty all weekend.  Sam has no intention of going anywhere until the minute she has to leave for Ruby’s game, and for the first time she takes her time peeling Alex’s dress off and moving against her, until Alex’s spines arches off the bed and her hips strain against Sam’s touch, again and again and again.

 

* * *

Morning comes, and for once-- for the first of the six times now that this has happened, the two of them falling into bed with each other after a night of pretending to be married-- Sam wakes up in her own bed, with Alex laying awake at her side.

“Hey,” Alex says quietly.  The sheets are pulled up and held tight over her chest.  The edges of a bruise that Sam vividly remembers leaving are visible past the sheets, and Sam mumbles out her own hello and rolls onto her side, carefully keeping her own section of the blankets up and covering her.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this,” Alex says after a long moment.  “I never should have-- undercover things like this are hard enough without--”

“Without banging each other senseless every time, or without pretending we don’t bang each out senseless every time?”

“Both,” Alex says sharply.  She pushes up to a sitting position, dragging the sheets with her, and Sam lets out a sigh and stands from the bed.  Behind her, Alex clears her throat sharply and there’s a rustle of sheets as she turns the other way, and Sam bites back another sigh.  She retrieves a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from her dresser and pulls them on, tossing another set to Alex.

“Point taken,” Sam says, folding her arms tightly over her chest.  She keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling as Alex dresses, allowing her the moment to dress and gather her clothes without an audience.  “I’ll make some coffee.  Uber works better than Lyft here, but they’re normally about fifteen minutes away, so maybe call now.”

She leaves Alex standing in the bedroom, clothes and shoes bundled into her arms, and disappears down the stairs.  It only takes her ninety seconds of ragged breaths and threatening tears before she’s put everything in her head and chest away and settled into a calm stoicism.

Alex appears ten minutes later, cheeks red and dress folded neatly into her arms.  She accepts the mug of coffee Sam offers her-- one cream, no sugar-- with a quiet thanks and stands uncomfortably on the other side of the kitchen counter from her.  

“I just don’t want this to damage what we have,” Alex says once her coffee is nearly done.  “You’re my best friend.  I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

“I know,” Sam says, picking through her words delicately, careful to keep her tone as gentle as possible.  “Me either.”

Alex’s phone buzzes and a car honks outside, and Alex swallows the rest of her coffee.  “That’s my car.”

“Have a good weekend off,” Sam says with a wide smile.  She busies herself with loading Alex’s coffee mug into the dishwasher and keeping the counter between them when Alex hesitates, waits, then finally gathers her clothes and slips out of the house.

Sam stands in the kitchen for long minutes after Alex leaves, her own cup of coffee untouched until it goes cold, hands splayed out on the cool marble of the countertop but still feeling the way Alex’s muscles trembled under her fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

A knock sounds on Sam’s office door in the middle of a Friday afternoon, and Sam, in the middle of a call and flipping rapidly through a stack of contracts on her desk, waves blindly because only four people have direct access to her office without having to deal with the impenetrable wall that is Jess and it’s almost definitely Lena, there to talk mergers and acquisitions.

Instead of Lena, though, it’s Alex standing vaguely uncomfortably in the middle of the office, hands in her jacket pockets and jaw tight.  Sam blanks for a moment on the call, losing her spot in the contract and shaking her head rapidly to adjust to the fact that Alex is in her office on a Friday afternoon, the first time she’s seen her in person since last weekend when Alex walk of shamed out of her house.

“One sec,” she mouths to Alex, skimming back through the contract and rattling off a series of required changes over the phone before hanging up.  “Hey.”

“Hey.”  Alex waves awkwardly from her spot halfway across the office.  “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t mean to get in the way of a call.”

“It’s fine, no big deal,” Sam says, flapping one hand dismissively.  “There are at least another fifteen rounds of back and forth in store for that contract.  No point in trying to hammer it all out today.”

“Right,” Alex says with a nod.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

“So what’s up?”

“Right,” Alex mumbles, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders.  “I wanted to tell you that I talked to J’onn about the Sinclair thing and you’re not going to have to do that anymore.  We decided to collaborate with the FBI’s investigation and they have a dedicated team that can handle any in person ops.  No more pretend married couple dates.”

“Oh,” Sam says slowly.  “Okay.”  She flashes a smile, as sincere as she can muster.  “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry you had to do it so many times,” Alex adds.  “I got caught up in wanting to catch her, but I should have-- I never should have put you in that position, much less more than once, especially since you still seem to think you owe the DEO some obligation or another.”

“I mean, I do, but that’s not really the point,” Sam says with a shrug, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest.  “I would have done it anyways.  To help you out.  Because that’s what friends do.”

A calendar reminder beeps from her laptop, drawing Sam’s attention, and she frowns at the monitor and mumbles out “ _ Sorry, one sec,” _ before hitting the speakerphone on her desk line.  “Hey, Jess, what’s this six o’clock in the calendar?”

“Open house at Ruby’s school,” Jess says immediately.

“Shit,” Sam groans out.  “I completely forgot.”

“I arranged a car to take you, it’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“You’re a godsend, J,” Sam mumbles, dropping her head into her hands and hanging up the phone.

“Open house, huh?”  Alex finally relaxes, settling into one of the chairs across from Sam.  “Is it that bad?”

“The open house part is fine,” Sam says with a sigh.  “The other parents, however, are a whole different story.”

“Why?”  Alex hooks one knee over the other and wiggles more comfortably down into her chair.  “If you want, I can arrest people.  If they see an FBI badge they definitely tend to wind up on their best behavior.”

“No more threatening people in my child’s life with your fake FBI badge,” Sam says, pointing sharply at her. “Don’t think for a second that Ruby didn’t wax poetic for days about you handling that little Facebook brat at her school.”  She pauses and sighs, smiles, drops her chin into her hand.  “Which-- thank you, by the way.  That was great of you to do, even if it was  _ completely _ illegal.”

Alex shrugs and grins. “I only use my powers for good.  So are you sure you don’t want me to scare some soccer moms for you?”

“They’re just annoying.”  Sam shoves the contracts and her laptop into her bag.  “They like to talk loudly about how important it is for kids to have two parents, more time at home, all that jazz.”  She shrugs into her coat and accepts her bag when Alex hands it to her with a smile.  “You know, typical wine mom bullshit.”

“Well,” Alex says, hand back in her pockets as she follows Sam out of the office.  “The offer still stands.  Alternatively, I can use my whole research mojo to dazzle them with statistics about how wrong they are.”

“Jess, go home,” Sam says on her way to the elevator, pointing firmly at her assistant.  “And thanks, but I think I’ll just grin and bear it.  There’s a bottle of wine at home for me if I survive without biting anyone’s head off.”

“It better be a really nice bottle of wine,” Alex says as the elevator makes its way down to the lobby to drop her off.  She pauses in the open door and glances back towards Sam.  “Have a great night.”

“You, too.”  Sam smiles as best she can and, just like the weekend before, watches Alex walk away until the elevator doors close and carry her down to the parking garage.

 

* * *

It’s only thirty minutes into the open house, which has primarily consisted of teachers talking for five minutes and then parents rattling around cliquishly chattering with one another, and Sam’s so ready to leave that she’s actively contemplating punching her way through a wall to get out.  Instead, because this is Ruby’s school, because she’s a mother, because this is what she’s here for, she pastes a smile on her face and does her best to participate in the conversation the closest group of parents have going.

“Once she goes to college, I’ll probably go back to work, you know, but I just want to be as available as possible for her until then,” one of them-- Jenny, perfectly blonde and blue eyed, with the tennis bracelet and the Volvo keychain to match-- says.  She offers a sympathetic look Sam’s way.  “Surely you understand that, Samantha, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sam says, clenching her hands behind her back and reminding herself that the Kryptonian strength in her muscles means she absolutely can’t punch Jenny in her well-coiffed head.  “Completely understand that.”

“Honestly, I would lose my mind if I had to do what you do,” one of the other parents says.  “I can’t imagine not being able to be home every afternoon when the kids get back from school.”

“Well,” Sam says pleasantly.  “It’s a challenge, certainly.  But we’ve always managed to make it work.”

A hand wraps around her wrist behind her back and Sam startles, about to turn around when Alex pops up at her side, hand in hers and wide smile on her face.  She pops up on her toes to press a kiss to Sam’s cheek and murmurs  _ “Roll with it.  I got you,”  _ before dropping back down to stand at her side.

“Who’s this?” Jenny says slowly.

“Alex Danvers,” Alex says, holding out her free hand.  “Sam’s wife.”

“Oh,” Jenny says, even more slowly, as she shakes Alex’s hand.  “I had no idea you were married.”

“I--” Sam starts, scrambling for a lie, but Alex wraps an arm around her waist and pulls close to her side with an easy shrug.

“That’s my fault,” she says.  “I work at the FBI, you see, and I’ve been on an undercover assignment since just after we moved to National City.  For safety purposes, it was better to maintain distance on paper for the both of us.  We had weekends together with Ruby, but I was out of touch most of the time until we wrapped up last week.”  She digs her free hand into her pocket and comes up with the fake wedding band Sam had worn so many times. “Speaking of, baby, I got these back from my CO today.  We’re free and clear.”

She fits the ring over Sam’s finger and kisses her cheek again before turning back to the rest of the group with a bright smile. “It’s so nice to be able to come and meet you all finally.  I’ve heard so much about you all from Sam.”

The entire group blinks slowly her, and then at Sam, then back again.  Sam curls an arm defensively, habitually, around Alex’s shoulders and lifts her chin enough that she can look down at most of the people surrounding them.

“I really had no idea you were married,” Jenny says again.  “It must have been so difficult being apart for that long.”

“It has been,” Sam says, saccharine sweet and smiling.  “But, you know, it’s worth it for the work she does.  Me and Ruby, we couldn’t be more proud of her.”

“I have no idea how you handle it all,” one of the other parents says.  

“She’s a superhero,” Alex says with a grin, hipchecking Sam gently.  

“How did you two meet?”

“In Central City,” Alex says smoothly.  “I was on a field post for six months, and Sam was finishing grad school and working in the building next to my office.”

“And how long have you been married?”

“Six years,” Sam chimes in, lying as best she can.  It’s so much easier to lie to Jenny and her cabal of soccer moms than it is to lie to Veronica Sinclair, and the familiar weight of Alex’s hand on her hip and the old rhythm of lying through their teeth is easy to lean into.  “We dated for almost three years before Ruby sat us down for a  _ very _ firm talk in which she decided it was time for us to make things official.”

“Goodness,” Jenny says, eyes wide and a hand on her chest. “You really are full of surprises, Samantha.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Alex says, leaning further into Sam’s side.  “Baby, can you introduce me to Ruby’s teachers?  I really want to talk to Mr. Robinson about her science fair project.”

“Of course.”  Sam flashes a theoretically apologetic smile at the rest of the group and waves with her free hand before following Alex out into the hallway.

“So,” Alex half-whispers as the door closes behind them, pulling Sam out of the view of the window into the classroom.  “Did that work--”

Sam grabs at her shoulders and pushes her across the hall until her back hits the wall and Sam kisses her, warm and heavy and, for the first time, completely sober.  Alex’s hands push flat against the wall behind her for long moments before she reaches for Sam’s hips, fingertips skimming under the hem of her shirt and hitting skin, the cool metal of her fake wedding ring a sharp contrast to the warmth of Alex’s palms, and a shiver rips through Sam’s body.

By the time Sam runs out of air and she has to pull back enough to suck in a ragged breath, her hands are pressed to Alex’s cheeks, her chest aching as much from lack of oxygen as from the fact that this-- making out in the hallway of her daughter’s school-- is everything she’s ever wanted from her relationship with Alex.

“Sam,” Alex mumbles out, fingers still digging into the skin of Sam’s back, breaths coming heavy and eyes wide and dark.  

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers.  She pulls her hands back and backs away, straightening her shirt and ignoring the way her skin goes cold without Alex’s hands touching her.  “I shouldn’t have--

“I can’t keep doing this,” Alex says, arms wrapping around her stomach and shoulders pushing into the wall.  “I can’t-- I wanted to help tonight, but I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t just act like this--” She cuts herself off, mouth snapping shut and cheeks flushing heavily, and Sam backs further away, until she collides with the opposite wall.

“Can’t what?”

Alex barks out a short laugh, quiet and disappointed, and shakes her head.  “I didn’t tell J’onn we had to stop the undercover work because it was hard on you, I did it because it was hard on me.   Because I like you too much to keep pretending.”

“You what?”  Sam’s voice shakes, brittle and uncertain in an empty hallway full of primary colors and clinical tile that bounces the sound around them.  

“I know it’s always been just whiskey and undercover work, and I know it’s stupid, but I  _ like _ you, Sam,” Alex says, small and uncertain.  “But I know that we’re friends, and that’s great, you know?  But I can’t just keep pretending to be your wife, and having casual sex with you, because I’m not really built that way, I guess.”

“Casual sex,” Sam says slowly.  “Just whiskey?”

“I know,” Alex says, scrubbing at her face with her palms.  “I think I just need some time, I guess, and maybe some space.  I don’t want to lose our friendship, or being able to spend time with Ruby, just because I--”

“I like you,” Sam blurts out.  It rattles around the empty space between them and Alex’s eyes go wide.  “Like, really a lot.”

“You what?” It’s Alex’s turn to stare blankly across the hallway.

“You think I’m not interested in you,” Sam says slowly.  “And that all of this has just been casual hookups for me?”

“I mean,” Alex says, throwing her hands out helplessly.  “Yes?”

“Oh, God,” Sam mutters.  “Seriously?  How many times do we have to have super intense,  _ amazing _ sex for you to realize that I’m romantically interested in you?”

“Oh,” Alex says slowly.  “Really?”

“God, we’re both such idiots.”  Sam finally pushes off of the wall and halves the space between them.  “Of course I like you.  Of  _ course _ I do.”

“Really?” Alex says again, still pinned against the wall.  

“Yes, really.”  Sam takes another step, and then another, until there’s less than a foot between them, hands laced behind her back and gripping tight enough to each other that her fingers ache.  “And I want to go out on a date with you. A real date.”

“Yeah,” Alex mumbles, eyes darting down towards Sam’s mouth.  “A real date.  Good idea.”

Sam closes the last of the distance between them, kissing Alex again, careful and soft and ready, so ready, to finally share something real with her.  Alex’s hands fit around her waist once more, familiar and warm and strong, pulling her closer and closer still.

“Where’s Ruby?” Alex mumbles, mostly into Sam’s mouth, kissing her again before she can answer.

“Soccer team party.”  Sam bites down on Alex’s ear and pushes forward when a shudder passes through Alex’s entire body.  “Won’t be home till like ten at least.”

“Good,” Alex says, yanking free from her spot between Sam and the wall and latching onto Sam’s wrist, pulling her towards the parking lot at a brisk pace.

 

* * *

Sam’s phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor, still caught in the pocket of her pants, and she groans, one arm flopping bonelessly out across the mattress.  Her hand slaps weakly against Alex’s stomach, and Alex lets out an exaggerated groan.

“Can you,” Sam mumbles uselessly and flapping her hand in the general direction.  Alex rolls her eyes but presses a kiss to Sam’s shoulder before sliding off the bed and retrieving the phone and flopping back into the bed.  She pulls the mess of sheets and blankets up over them, curling against Sam’s side and slinging an arm over her stomach.  

“It’s not work, is it?” Alex kisses Sam’s shoulder again.  

“Nope,” Sam says through a yawn.  “Ruby wants to stay at her friend’s house.”  She taps out a message giving her permission and drops her phone onto the bedside table.  “Now we have all night.”

“Didn’t you say something about a real date?” Alex props her chin on Sam’s shoulder, eyes narrowing.  “I feel like I was promised an actual date.”

“It is,” Sam starts with a groan, squinting at the clock.  “9:42 at night.  You want to go on a date right now?”

“I might,” Alex says, fingers sliding along the lines of Sam’s ribcage absently.

“Okay.”  Sam sits up abruptly, leaving Alex without a pillow, and she flops onto the mattress.

“What?”

“Get dressed.”  Sam gathers Alex’s clothes from the floor and fling them at her on the way to her closet.  “We’re going out.”

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Alex says hurriedly, even as she wrinkles her nose at the way her bra is completely tangled into her shirt.

“I said date, so we’re going on a date.”  Sam yanks a sweater over her head and throws her hair up into a ponytail, turning around fully dressed to face Alex, who’s still untangling her clothes.  “Come on now.  We don’t have all night.”

Fifteen minutes later, after Sam’s spent at least ten of them mocking Alex’s inability to get dressed in a reasonable amount of time, they walk into a mostly-empty Indian restaurant two blocks from Sam’s house.

“Oh, that smells amazing,” Alex mumbles.  “How did I not know this place was here?”

“Jess knows all,” Sam says, leading her to a table.  “The first thing she did when I started was give me an expansive list of all the restaurants in the city, what to avoid, and what was open late.  This is my favorite.”

“Secret Indian restaurant within walking distance of your house that’s open until one AM? No wonder.”

Sam shrugs and smiles and pulls out a chair for Alex with a flourish.  “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Alex says with an exaggerated bow, taking her seat.  “Let the date commence.”

Sam sits across from her and hooks one foot around Alex’s ankle, chin propped in her hand and smile growing, settling in for their first real date.   
  



End file.
